


this human thing.

by actuallyitsstar



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, Meta, Other, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), for the record im very gay i just dont think hank is, i dont know what other tags to use babe its nothing too cool just read it ok thanks, its not a ship tho bc thats just not my vibe. but u can read it how u like ya know, just in case, kinda????????? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 04:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyitsstar/pseuds/actuallyitsstar
Summary: Maybe it's because he's the most advanced prototype Cyberlife has; even before deviancy, he often seemed more human than he had any right to. But then, he would do something that brought the reality of his being back to Hank like a cold bucket of water. At the time he'd thought it made him angry because it was true. Now he's realized it was because he always sort of knew it wasn't.





	this human thing.

The ruling came down today. The thirty human rights, owed by law to the human species for centuries, would now be officially applied to that of the androids. Articles like the right to equality, the right to own property, the right to family and marriage, and the right of peaceful assembly and association, all things that, if denied to a human, would have been seen as crazy- a step beyond scandalous. More than potential ignorance or a simple mistake; such a decision could only be malicious in intent. And yet, these very concepts were withheld from the entire android species for decades. Some people are still outraged by their introduction.

Hank used to be one of those people, and the wonder of it is sort of stunning- the kind of thing you step back from and realize how far you have come only when you're mostly on the other side of it. What defense could he have? Androids had always seemed a little unnatural to him- he'd liked time he grew up in best. The eighties and nineties were calmer, in his memory- were easier to understand, and he felt less out of his element. And, androids had done little to endear themselves to him, to say the least.

Until he met Connor.

It's tough to say why it is. Maybe it's because he's the most advanced prototype Cyberlife had made thus far; even before deviancy, he frequently seemed more human than he had any right to. But then, he would do something that brought the reality of his being back to Hank like a cold bucket of water. He'd say something, or make a choice, that reminded him that the android was following a directive, not a desire for life- although it's not as if Hank relates to having that either- and he would find himself inexplicably disappointed. What did he expect? He'd always know Connor was, after all, made of plastic. You can't kill me! I'm not alive! Although it sounded like a badass line from an action thriller, he hadn't liked hearing it when Connor dropped the effective line on a deviant. He'd liked I'm just a machine, designed to accomplish a task, even less. At the time he'd thought it made him angry because it was true. Now he's realized that it was because he always kind of knew that it wasn't.

Hank stirs the coffee in his stained mug around, the metal spoon scraping on worn ceramic. He should put less sugar in his coffee- Connor has informed him of this approximately twice a week for more than three months, and he probably won't stop any time soon. Convincing hank to adopt more healthy habits seems to be one of the android's new directives. Connor isn't around just now, however, so Hank can do as he wishes.

The android has gone for a walk. He does it somewhat often, apparently finding the stimulation useful for clearing that mind-palace of his. The lieutenant hardly relates; all of his mind-clearing methods are severely less beneficial for his health, and also decidedly ineffective on the android population.

Hank's blue-gray eyes are trailing up his worn carpet, past the corner that turns into the hallway from where he sits in the kitchen. On numerous nights he had sat at this table, a photo of Cole at his elbow, a bottle of whiskey in hand, and a gun inches away from trigger-hungry fingers. It's only been recently that, though it's not as if the desire has entirely disappeared so instantly, he's begun to come up with very solid reasons as to why he can't do that. Now, Cole's old bedroom, with the boy's things carefully boxed away and stacked in a corner, has become Connor's. It's barren- the walls are still blue and purple, as they had been when Cole resided there, but the bed and side table are the only pieces of furniture and both are bland; the rest of the room is free of personality or decor. He'll have to do something about that one day, he supposes.

Even so, the knowledge that his android partner has somewhat accepted this more human life- this more human existence, it's what allows him to sit at this table with a coffee mug instead of Jim Bean, what allows him to spend an evening lost in thought without staring at a revolver all night.

It seems almost everyone has noticed the change. Fowler, still unsure of how Hank had gone from hating androids as a whole to demanding Connor be reinstated as his partner immediately, seemingly overnight. Gavin, who was suddenly met with opposition when he bitched and moaned about the new species and their rights. Even the other android police officers, many of whom had been given the option, and chosen to, remain with the Force. Now they were willing to approach him, to try to get to know him, to interact on the same level. To collaborate on cases and interact as coworkers. And the fact that they did, didn't make him want to set them on fire. It was a win-win for everyone, really.

Kamski's questions beside his disturbing but gaudy red pool were imprinted on Hank's mind the moment they were uttered, and the decision Connor made thereafter solidified his position on them. Are you a machine designed to accomplish your mission, or a living being, capable of free will? The distressed flashing red on Connor's LED, both during and following the incident, told Hank everything he had needed to know. His small reassurance that he had done the right thing, as he watched Connor's understanding of the world he knew start to crumble, was just enough of a line to keep him from sinking, but he wanted to android to figure it out on his own. He'd wanted Connor to have to decide who he was and make his own decisions- do what he had to do and see where that took him. The respect and yes, pride, that he had for him only continued to increase as Connor became more independent and began to make his own choices, however much he would deny them, all the way up until that crucial moment in the Cyberlife Tower.

The sudden reminder of what Connor had been like when Hank first began working with him, presented in the other Connor model's existence, forced his perspective, it forced him to see just how human his Connor really was. The peaceful outcome to the android's revolution thus far is more than he could hope for in any human civil rights movement.

He throws back the rest of his now cold coffee with a sort of a wince, leaving the cup on the table, pushed aside. Maybe androids really will be the ones who make the world a better place.

The front door of his little house creaks open and in steps the subject of his thoughts. Connor's eyes land immediately on the lieutenant, blinking at him in mild surprise. "Liu- Hank," he manages to use the name Hank has asked him to a thousand times, but only at the last possible second. "What are you doing up? I told you not to wait up for me."

Hank releases a sigh, pushing himself out of the chair by bracing his hands on the table-top. "Maybe I wanted to," he says cryptically. He'd like to verbalize some of his thoughts, but now, it's late. He needs to sleep, and Connor... doesn't, but he will anyway, because he's trying much too hard to fit in. Hank can respect that, somewhat. He moves closer to where Connor is standing, giving the android a pat on the back that lingers there for a second. "We'll talk in the morning, that good with you?" he's already moving towards the hall, not waiting for an answer.

"I... guess so," Connor stammers, distinctly aware that he did not ask for a conversation. "Is there something wrong?"

Hank gives him a tiny, lopsided smile as he moves toward the hallway to his bedroom. "No, there's not," he says sort of gruffly, but his face is softer. "But hey, I just wanted to let you know I thought- I think you're doing real good with this human thing. And I'm- uh, proud of you for it." He shrugs up his shoulders, moving sway from Connor even still, leveling a finger at the android. "And tomorrow we're going shopping for that room of yours because I can't stand to see it so shitty." He turns on his heels and walks down the hall to his room, where he closes the door behind him.

Connor is left standing in Hank's living room, alone aside for Sumo, and feeling a tiny smile tug at his lips. Yes, this must really mean he's good at this human thing after all.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this like over a year ago and i thought i'd just get it out of my drafts even though it's not perfect (so pls dont judge my skill on it lmao) ???? i have no further justification for this tbh. just a frivilous lil hank-introspection-on-androids-and-one-android-in-particular oneshot thing. i live for comments and kudos so pls keep me alive if you enjoyed it babes! thanks for reading!


End file.
